When Umbridge Goes too Far
by sliz225
Summary: Professor McGonagalls finds out about Umbridge's vicious detentions, and loses her temper.  Oneshot.  Crap ending, so reviews are appreciated.


"I, however, disagree with Slinkhard. I think that jinxes can be quite useful in defensive situation," Hermione said firmly.

"Is that so? Well, it is not your place disagree with Ministry-approved texts. Detention, Miss Granger," said Umbridge coolly. Her mouth spread in a wide, toady smile as she glared at Harry, daring him to argue.

"That's not fair," Harry said furiously. He stood to glare at his teacher. "You can't punish her for expressing her opinion! You asked a question and she answered it!"

Ron grabbed his wrist and forced him to sit back down, and Hermione groaned and shushed him. The damage was done, though.

"Then you both can enjoy a week of detentions, starting tonight," Umbridge announced sleekly.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione clamped her hand over it. "You'll get us _both_ more detentions if you don't shut up," she hissed fiercely. Harry settled, glaring at his textbook without seeing it. He was so filled with rage, the words seemed to blur before his eyes. Umbridge had dragged Hermione into their conflict. This was going to be the worst detention yet . . .

_the next day_

"Miserable old cow . . . power-hungry prat . . . restricting free speech . . . how _dare_ she," Hermione muttered wildly under her breath as she Transfigured her flask of vinegar into wine with a vicious stab of her wand. It had been past one in the morning when Umbridge had finally released them. Hermione had begun whimpering in pain on the way back to the dormitory, and by the time they entered the common room she had been on the verge of a nervous collapse. She and Harry had fallen asleep in the common room, their hands still floating in a pool of Essence of Murtlap. They had only caught a few hours of restless sleep upright in the armchairs, punctuated by stabbing pain in their hands. Needless to say, this did little to repair Hermione's shattered nerves. "Foul old witch . . . horrid old woman . . . "

"The worst part is," Harry began for the tenth time that morning, "I never said anything detention-worthy! I didn't mention Voldemort, or yell at her, or anything!" 

"pompous old sadist . . . _cruel_ little git . . . using corporeal punishment . . . _illegal _. . . " 

"I'm with you on this one, mate," Ron said grimly, waving his wand in the vague direction of his flask and accidentally turning his vinegar into lemon juice. "I mean, I could understand if she docked a few points for cheek, but _detention_-" 

"_Detention_, Potter? You've received another detention?" The threesome whirled guiltily to see Professor McGonagalls glaring at them. "What have I told you about mentioning You-Know-Who in that class? I don't care how she provokes you, you must-" 

"But I didn't mention Lord Voldemort, I swear!" said Harry, horrified. Professor McGonagalls looked skeptical.

"If that's so, Potter, why did you receive detention?" she questioned.

"He has detention because I disagreed with our textbook, and Umbridge gave me a detention for no reason, and he protested, and now we both have detention for a week!" Hermione blurted out in one breath. Professor McGonagalls looked stunned at her top student.

"_You_ have detention, Granger? I'm surprised at you. I thought you would know better," their teacher said through pursed lips.

"But all I said was that I disagreed with Slinkhard on the subject of defensive jinxing," gasped Hermione. "That's all I said, honest!"

"And she gave you a week's worth of detentions for saying _that_? Well, if that-_woman_-is truly determined to hand out detentions to my Gryffindors like candy, I suppose there is nothing we can do to stop her," said Professor McGonagalls irritably, giving the strong impression she would have preferred to use a stronger word than "woman." "In the mean time, we must concentrate on the work at hand. I see Miss Granger has already Transfigured her vinegar into wine-can I see you two boys do the same?" She quickly returned Ron's flask to vinegar.

"Vinere!" they chorused, poking their flasks with their wands. Ron, to his utter surprise, succeeded; Harry, on the other hand, managed to shatter his flask.

"No, no, no, Potter, it's not a gentle flick of the wand! You have to _jab_ you wand at the flask. Here." His teacher placed her hand over his, and guided his hand through the sharp motion. "Now you try." Harry hopefully raised his wand once more.

"Vinere!"

The liquid went thick and purple. Professor McGonagalls unscrewed the top and sniffed it cautiously. "Rancid grape juice," she pronounced with half a smile. "Close enough for now, but by O.W.L time, I expect-what on Earth?" She broke off, staring at her palm, which was lightly smeared with blood where it had touched Harry's hand. "Potter, is your _hand_ bleeding?" she demanded.

He realized in horror that a particularly vigorous flick of the wand had reopened last night's barely healed wounds. Harry and Hermione hastily stowed their wounded hands in the pockets of their robes while Ron stalled.

"He cut his hand on a, ah, broken potion bottle this morning," Ron lied quickly. "It's just a minor cut."

"Ah, right, that's what happened," Harry said hurriedly. "Just a broken potion bottle, Professor. No problem."

"Well, there is no need for students to be walking around with injured hands in a school for magic," said his teacher genially. "Let's see that hand, Potter."

Professor Umbridge's blood quill had became legendary in the Gryffindor common room, and the rest of the Transfiguration class began to cotton on to what had caused the blood smear. The Gryffindors began to silently lay down their flasks and wands, eager to see what would happen when their strict teacher realized what had caused Harry's injuries. Harry did not find their peering faces encouraging.

"Your _hand,_ Harry," ordered his teacher more sharply, and with extreme reluctance, Harry relinquished his hand. Professor McGonagalls confidently tapped it with her wand. Nothing happened. As Harry had expected, Professor Umbridge had spelled her quill to produce healing-resistant injuries. His professor tapped his hand again, harder. Still nothing happened. "Evanesco!" snapped Professor McGonagalls sharply, rapping Harry's hand with her wand. The smears of blood cleared away, revealing the letters inscribed in his hand in clear, shining script.

"'_I must not tell lies,'_" quoted his teacher softly, in horror. "But . . . what . . ."

The entire classroom waited on tenterhooks for their teacher to understand. When she did, she exploded.

"Umbridge! She did this to you during those detention, didn't she? How dare she? How _dare_ she use corporeal punishment on a student! The idea! You should have come to me the moment that bit- that _witch _laid hands on you, Potter. I'm going to her office this minute and straightening this out. How dare she use a blood-quill on a student within Hogwart walls!" Professor McGonagalls cried. Harry, Ron and Hermione traded panicked glances.

"Oh _please_, Professor, don't complain to Umbridge," fretted Hermione nervously. "The detentions aren't that bad, you know. It's really no big deal."

McGonagalls stared at her like she had never seen Hermione before. "I'm surprised at you, Miss Granger," she said for the second time that day. "I thought you would realize that this is our opportunity, no, our _right_, to finally be rid of that woman. Corporeal punishment is illegal in the Wizarding world as well as the Muggle world, Miss Granger. I intend to send an owl to our Minister the moment class ends. Professor Umbridge will be removed from this school, at the very least."

"But only if Fudge listens to you, and he _won't_ listen to you, Professor, you know he won't! He's supported his little Hogwarts spy too openly to retract that support now. He'll just shuffle away the evidence, like he did when Harry warned him about You-Know-Who's return. He will claim that "poor, disturbed Harry" has started cutting himself, or something. I bet he'll even have Umbridge sack you, for "insubordination" or "false accusations" or something. Then he'll be able to add another Ministry spy to the Hogwart's teaching staff! To top it all off, Fudge we'll probably push the Prophet into writing an article about how Harry is a self-mutilating freak," Hermione said in a rush.

Her teacher drew herself upright, her eyes flashing with a terrible anger that was not directed at Hermione. "Are you implying," she said, very, very coldly, "that I am unable to protect my students in my own school?"

Hermione shuddered. "Well . . . with things the way they are . . . with Umbridge as headmistress, and the Ministry interfering . . . _yes_. Yes, I don't think you're able to protect us from that foul woman's evil detentions."

Professor McGonagalls sat down hard on the edge of Neville's desk. The blood drained from her face, leaving her white and pale. "This is the worst thing that woman has done yet," she said softly, staring at her quivering hands. "She's made it impossible for me to protect my charges." She swallowed hard, taking a moment to regain control. When she spoke again, she began to sound like her old self. "Might I suggest strained Essence of Murtlap? Holding one's hand in a bowl of the liquid can help take the sting away. I could have Madam Pomfrey brew some for you-"

"That's alright. Hermione already made some. I've been using it after my detentions for weeks," Harry told her. "We'll survive."

She nodded jerkily. "At least I now know better than to report student infractions to our 'High Inquistor.' If this is what her form of discipline looks like, I'll instruct my fellow staff members to deal with troublemakers personally."

"That would really help, Professor," said Hermione. "Nobody wants their hand sliced open because they forgot their homework."

Their teacher flinched. "Right. Precisely what I meant."

They inspected their teacher's distressed face worriedly. "You're _certain_ you won't complain about Umbridge?" said Hermione. "Because you have to understand, it really won't help, and-"

"I understand, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagalls said sharply. They all flinched at her tone. "A sadistic hag is torturing my students and there is nothing I can do. I understand perfectly."

She stalked away without another word.

The next day, she passed Peeves trying to unscrew a huge crystal chandelier in the hall. She sighed resignedly, and started call for the Bloody Barn to keep him in hand. Then she reconsidered.

"It unscrews the other way," she murmured, and smiled at Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they passed her in the hall.

She could have sworn they smiled back.


End file.
